


Yes, I Know, I Heard You

by Kiromenanz



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Attempt at Humor, Babysitting, F/F, Family, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiromenanz/pseuds/Kiromenanz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kingsmen are a group of superheroes – professional, discrete and deadly (sometimes). In retrospect, Eggsy probably should have thought better about bringing his sister to work. <br/>(Featuring Roxy and an ill-advised romance, Merlin, who takes the whole thing a bit more seriously than the rest of them and Eggsy, who is in over his head. Oh, and Harry, who is just waiting for Eggsy to finally get with the program.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, I Know, I Heard You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harryunwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryunwin/gifts).



> This is for harryunwin, who asked for Harry and Eggsy babysitting Daisy, and also superheroes. For some reason I really struggled with this story, but I hope the end result is to your liking (even though it is slightly cracky in parts). I hope you have a great summer and fun reading :).
> 
> This has been betaed by an amazing beta, who will remain anonymous until the stories are unveiled ;). Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Thank you to the mods for being incredibly kind and supportive and organizing this exchange, I had a lot of fun!

Sometimes Eggsy wonders when exactly his life spun this far out of control. Maybe it was the day his father died under mysterious circumstances and a stranger came to the flat in an immaculate suit. Maybe it was the day Eggsy stole his stepfather’s car and got caught. Maybe it was the day he used his only phone call to dial the number on the back of a medal of valour.

But there was no way he could have expected to end up _here_.

“No,” Eggsy says, leant against a dirty wall in a narrow street. His suit is too tight again and it itches, especially in his general butt-area. Gotta talk to Merlin about that. “I’m telling you guys, _HSBC_ is on the other side of the city.” He gesticulates in the general direction usually known as _somewhere over there._ “This is _Hounslow,_ innit?”

The guy scratches his head with the handle of his gun. “Nah can’t be. The map said _turn right_.”

Eggsy sighs. He’s getting tired of this argument.

“A’right you guys, this was fun ‘n’ all but we gotta move on to some capable criminals. Call if ya got a proper map, yeah?”

The masked guy straightens. Apparently, he’s offended, because he trains his gun on Eggsy all of a sudden. Load of good that’ll do him, the suits are bulletproof, but Eggsy won’t talk the guy out of wasting his bullets if he fancies it.

“You stay right there!” the guy yells, “Or I’ll shoot ya!” He gestures with his gun in a way that makes Eggsy cringe with the lecture he would get if he handled a gun that carelessly. “And then I’mma shoot all the people in that square over there!”

His companion nods emphatically. Eggsy hasn’t yet figured out why idiots always come in pairs. He debates hitting his head against a wall, but refrains.

Harry next to him lifts two hands in a placating gesture and steps forward. “Now, gentlemen, I’m sure we can find some way around this. My colleague meant no offence, I assure you.”

Eggsy bristles. He’s about to assure them that he meant plenty offence, thank you very much, but Criminal Number Two gets there first. “I dunno,” he says, “sounded plenty rude to me.”

Harry somehow manages to looks genuinely regretful. “In that case, I apologise.” He takes another step forward. “My colleague does not have a true appreciation for the ... ah...” There is a little gesture that Eggsy recognises as being utterly calculated, but that might look like Harry trying to grasp the proper word to the untrained eye, and whoa, did Harry just _check out_ Criminal Number One? “ _beauty_ of crime.” Harry finishes with a little smirk that shows off his dimples. Criminal One colours slightly and shifts from one foot to the other.

“Yeah, you see, ’s an awful lot of work, that, ‘n you don’ get much appreciation in this line of work, you hear me?”

Harry nods seriously. “And such a shame! I would love to hear more about it someday, maybe over a cup of tea...?”

Now the guy is red like a traffic light, and he stutters a bit before pressing out “S-sure, anytime...”

Harry winks at him in a way that’s simultaneously mischievous and promising _dirty, dirty_ things. Eggsy bites his lip to keep himself from blurting out that _he’s got some crime stories to tell, too, and there’s even a complete tea set at his home!_

“I’ll find you.” Harry promises, and the guy takes Criminal Number Two by the arm and tugs him away with a mumbled goodbye. The last Eggsy sees of him are his bright red ears before the two of them turn a corner.

Harry turns around and smiles at him loftily. “And _that_ , Eggsy, is how it’s done.”

This time, Eggsy can’t resist the impulse, and his head meets the slightly grimy brick wall with a soft _clunk_. Oh, they’re gonna get in _so much trouble_ for this.

(No, this was definitely not the direction he had imagined his life to go in.)

 

“You did _what_?”

Harry shrugs and delicately stirs his tea. Eggsy tries to sink even lower in his chair, a pursuit aided by the fact that the HQ interior architect apparently had a predilection for soft, squishy armchairs.

Merlin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Harry,” he says with the tone of the eternally patient and long-suffering, “I realise that this might be difficult for you to understand, considering your IQ of 132, but your task is to _apprehend_ criminals, not _flirt them out of their weapons in broad daylight_!”

The man in question does not even flinch when Merlin raises his voice towards the end of that sentence. He just takes a sip of tea, then lets his eyes flutter shut and his tongue dart out to lick his lips in silent enjoyment.

Eggsy resolutely fixes his eyes on the furrow between Merlin’s eyebrows. It’s growing deeper by the second.

“But it works so well, does it not?” Harry eventually says, setting the cup back down on its saucer. “Besides, it’s ever so fun.”

Eggsy notes with a touch of apprehension that Merlin’s clenched fist is trembling, knuckles white. “You are not here to have _fun,_ Galahad! And where on earth is your suit?”

“Lost it.” Harry says completely unconcerned, flicking a crumb from his dark red tie and carefully biting into a piece of shortbread. Eggsy had no idea where Harry had even gotten the thing from, he could swear that it wasn’t there a second ago. Did Harry actually keep biscuits in his pockets just to irritate Merlin?

“You ... _lost_ it?” Merlin echoed, disbelief heavy in his tone. “And however did that happen, may I ask?”

Harry dusts off his fingers. “I might have dropped it in the Thames.”

Merlin’s eyebrow seems to have developed a twitch. Eggsy shrinks down further in his seat. “In ... the Thames?”

“Completely by accident of course.” Harry reassures him calmly. “Such a shame, too. It was quite ... colourful.”

Merlin opens his mouth, although Eggsy suspects that he has no idea what he even wants to say to that, when the delicate sounds of _Bang Bang_ fill the room.

Hastily, and quite a bit disconcerted by the way Merlin’s murderous gaze has settled on him, Eggsy digs the phone in question out of his jacket. It’s his mum, and while he knows that Merlin is probably going to kill him for it later (slowly and painstakingly), he’s not about to hang up on his mum. He was raised right, after all, despite common assumption.

“Yeah, Mum?”

“Eggsy!” his mother’s voice rings out, sounding slightly panicked, “Thank god I got a hold of you.”

Eggsy glances at Merlin. Merlin lifts an eyebrow threateningly.

“Mum, is this really important? ’Cause I’m in the middle of a business meeting–”

Merlin’s lifted eyebrow is joined by a second one, more incredulous than irate. Harry, who’s currently buttering a scone, snorts minimally. “That’s one way of putting it.”

It has the added advantage of Merlin fixing his angry laser eyes (not literally, Merlin’s power isn‘t laser eyes, that would have been much cooler than a boring aptitude for technology) back on Harry. Unfortunately it makes Eggsy miss what his mum is saying.

“Sorry, mum, could ya say that again?”

“I said, I got called in for a shift, gotta fill in for Ronnie. It’s a good opportunity, and we could use the money, and I leave in half an hour.”

Eggsy frowns. “But mum, what about Dais’?”

His mum sighs and it tells Eggsy all he needs to know.

“No mum, I can’t take her! I’m working!”

Merlin nods emphatically and Eggsy rolls his eyes at him and sticks out his tongue.

“Eggsy, please? I’ve been trying t’get that promotion and I really need this ... Besides, I already said I’d come in.”

Eggsy groans and ruffles his hair in frustration.

“Hold on, mum.”

He takes the phone down and covers the lower half with his hand. “Hey Merlin, quick question–”

“No.”

“You don’t even know–”

“I don’t care, answer is no.” Merlin crosses his arms in front of his chest. “This is not a daycare, Eggsy.”

Eggsy opens his eyes really wide and blinks a lot, looking up at Merlin from beneath his lashes.

“No.”

He purses his lips into a pout and wriggles around a bit in his seat.

“No.”

“ _Pleeeeaaase?”_

Merlin sighs. “Fine.”

Eggsy sticks his fist in the air and grins. “Thanks, Merlin, you’re the guvner, bruv!”

He gives his mom the directions to the completely innocuous tailor shop that they are currently using as a cover. Merlin frowns harder at him. “Just this once, and only in HQ! Don’t you dream of taking her on any missions, you hear me?”

Eggsy solemnly promises. Harry next to him bites into his cream and jam covered scone and winks at him good-naturedly.

Merlin sighs a second time, this time even heavier. He points a finger at Harry, who blinks back at him innocently. “This is all your fault, you hear me? I should never have allowed you to recruit that boy, the two of you together are a health hazard if I’ve ever seen one.”

Harry just smirks and offers him a scone. Merlin huffily declines, only to take it anyway a second later with a defiant glare.

 

Half an hour later, Roxy drops into a crouch in front of Daisy, who is holding a little stuffed octopus Eggsy bought for her. Actually, he intended to get her a Barbie or something, but as soon as she saw the thing Daisy was a goner, and Eggsy can never say no to her puppy dog eyes. He loves her to pieces, but to be honest, his little sister is a bit weird.

“And who are you?” Roxy asks, mask dangling from her fingers. Daisy, all three feet, three inches and slightly wonky blonde ponytail, straightens up with that particular air of importance that four-year-olds apparently just have, if Eggsy’s experience is anything to go by, and looks Roxy up and down.

“M’name’s Daisy,” she proclaims and shoves her pudgy little hand into Roxy’s face, “nice t’meet ya.”

Roxy recovers remarkably well, takes the hand gingerly and shakes it a few times. “My name is Roxy,” she returns with equal gravity “and it is my pleasure.” Eggsy once more thanks the heavens for the awesomeness that’s his best mate.

“Hullo Roxy.”

Roxy smiles. “Hi. You’re accompanying your brother today, aren’t you? Like a big girl?”

Daisy nods and Eggsy awkwardly pats her head. “Mum needed to pop out, an’ someone’s gotta look after the little tyke, so I guess it’s _bring ya kid sister to work day_.”

Roxy stands up, sliding her mask in place with practised gestures. It covers almost all of her face except the eyes, but Eggsy can see the worries in them. Or maybe he’s just projecting. He crouches down next to his sister and takes out a little mask that he stole from Merlin a few minutes ago. It’s pink with little glittering stars on it, and it will make Daisy absolutely unrecognisable.

“A’right, luv,” he starts and carefully slides the thing over her head. It’s almost shaped like a ski mask, only out of more breathable material and with a little hole on top to make room for Daisy’s beloved ponytail. (It is also, most probably, bulletproof, but he doesn’t think about that.)

“Now, remember, wha’s my name?”

She points at him. “T’istan!”

Eggsy beams at her and flicks her ponytail. He doesn’t need to be able to see her nose to know that it scrunches up in protest at that. “Exactly, princess, and who’s that?” He points at Roxy.

“Lancelot!”

He nods. “Very good, you’re a smart girl aren’t ye? So what’re the rules?”

Daisy sighs at him and stomps her little foot. “I know the rules! I wanna go now, _let’s gooo_!”

Eggsy catches her hands in his and lightly tugs at them to make her look at him. “I know ye know, luv, indulge me, a’right?”

She rolls her eyes. “Not talk to strangers, not go off alone, not call yous by your real names, stay back and not tell mum!”

He smiles at her again. “Exactly! Perfect, let’s go!”

They head out in a nondescript car with a licence number that technically does not exist. Roxy is driving, and Eggsy is checking the radio frequencies until they find one that sounds promising. It’s a bank robbery, which, while totally ordinary, at least promises to be relatively save for Daisy, since it’s a routine.

However, when they get there (dropping through a hole in the ceiling, in a considerably less flashy way than Eggsy is used to, since a four-year-old in one’s arms is not exactly conductive to a double somersault), the safes are empty and the culprits are nowhere in sight. The only hint that they’ve ever been there is a bunch of flowers lying on the bottom of one of them, dwarfed by the high concrete walls built to protect wads of cash.

Eggsy lifts Daisy up. She wraps her arms around his neck and looks around with wide eyes, while Roxy goes around the safe looking for traces. When she’s been at it for at least ten minutes Eggsy can’t hold his tongue anymore.

“Lance, sorry t’say this but I feel like ye’re wastin’ yer time.” With his free hand he motions at the flowers. “It’s kind of obvious who it was, innit?”

Roxy stares up at the tiny window that they must’ve come in through, judging by the broken glass on the floor all around it. There are stars in her eyes.

“To fit through that – she must be so _fit_. Just imagine how she could–”

Eggsy covers Daisy’s ears. “Hello-o! Children present!”

Roxy snaps out of it and huffs. “I didn’t even say anything.” she mutters and grabs the flowers. It’s forget-me-nots, this time, and Eggsy can’t think of anything cheesier for his life. “Let’s go, the police will be here any minute.”

They do, and the rest of the day is spend apprehending much less interesting and ambitious criminals. To Eggsy’s consternation, Daisy _loves_ it, she won’t stop peppering him with questions at every turn. When they get to HQ at the end of the day she grabs his collar and gives him a serious look while he’s helping her take off her mask.

“Next time,” she says decisively, “I want it to be _black_.”

Eggsy lifts an eyebrow.

“With _spiders_ on it.” she adds, and for the first time he gets the vaguely disconcerting feeling that he might be in over his head.

 

It becomes a thing, Daisy on missions, Daisy in HQ. Merlin chokes on his various protests, but in the end he can’t do anything about it. Eggsy needles him endlessly with the fact that Merlin has developed quite a soft spot for his sister. Merlin of course denies it vehemently, but Eggsy one day walks in on him carefully colouring in a robot drawing Daisy made for him under her watchful gaze and ... well. Let’s just say that pretty much sets the theme for Merlin’s presents for years to come.

You can say what you will about secret superheroes, but the lot of them are incredibly sweet with her. Eggsy is never scared about her wandering around the endless halls of HQ on her own (which she does on a worryingly frequent basis) because someone always follows after her like a lost puppy and brings her back again. He’s never had as many people frequenting his office as when Daisy’s sitting on the floor, re-enacting the French revolution with her Barbie dolls.

“Where did she even _learn_ that?” Roxy asks with a frown as Daisy beheads Marie Antoinette with a triumphant “Thwack!”. “That’s not normal for little kids, is it?”

Eggsy shrugs. “Mum watched a movie once, apparently.”

Roxy’s eyebrows crinkle thoughtfully. “Did she? _Les Mis,_ maybe?” she wonders and Eggsy makes an I-dunno-face.

“Fieve la rev’lushon!” Daisy yells. Eggsy makes a mental note to have Harry teach her French as soon as possible. His sister is _gifted_ , that’s what she is.

There’s a knock on his door and Merlin sticks in his bald head. “There you are, Lancelot, there’s a mission for you in an hour. It’s the Dark Duo, might want to prepare. There might be flowers again.”

His grin is echoed on Eggsy’s face, and they both watch as she jumps up and hurries out of the room, mumbling and blushing wildly all the while. Merlin peers past the doorframe inside the room.

“Still, Eggsy? Maybe invest in a daycare for the afternoons, don’t you think?”

“I will.” Eggsy lies. He can’t take his sister away from the superhero life now. He tries every morning and her puppy eyes make him fetch her her brand new spider-mask without even noticing he’s doing it.

Merlin drops a mass of smooth, red cloth in Eggsy’s lap, who looks at him with confusion.

“Galahad’s new suit.” Merlin adds. Daisy makes explosion noises in the background. Apparently now the robots have appeared to round up all the revolutionaries. “Tell him that I will personally see to it that he wakes up with bright pink hair if he ‘loses’ this one.”

Eggsy salutes, and then thinks of something. He deposits the suit on the floor and walks up to Merlin, who looks at him with suspicion.

“Listen, bruv, ‘bout the suits–”

Merlin holds up his hands. “No, Eggsy, I told you, _no winged shoes_ , this is not a fashion enterprise!”

Eggsy briefly thinks about arguing the point (these shoes are _aces_ , alright), but decides against it. Instead, he makes sure Daisy is occupied and says quietly: “Nah, ‘s not about tha’. Can’t you do somethin’ about this?” He gestures to his crotch, where the material clings excessively closely beneath his trackie bottoms. “I mean, I get tha’ I gotta wear tigh’ fittin’ stuff for movement and shit, but I always feel like I’m flashin’ half the city with these!”

Merlin looks entirely unimpressed. “A job requirement, I believe. I suggest you get over it.”

Eggsy gapes. “Merl– c‘mon, be a mate, a’right?”

Merlin gives him an entirely fake smile that looks frankly scary on his face and steps out of the room. Not before waving goodbye to Daisy though, who favours him with a distracted finger-wriggle.

“Good day, Tristan.”

“Oi! Oi! Merlin!” But Merlin just saunters away. Eggsy can only suppress a curse with an effort and a guilty glance at Daisy.

 

He drops the suit in Harry’s lap a little later that day, on his way outside with Daisy for a quick walk in the park.

“Merlin brought this by for you.” He grouses, as if Harry doesn’t already know. Daisy entertains herself staring at the stuffed rat that Harry inexplicably installed on top of his fireplace. Why Harry has a _fireplace_ in his office is another question that Eggsy doesn’t dare ask. He tries to tug his sister away from the dead rodent, but she doesn’t budge.

Harry is sitting at his desk, but apparently not working. Eggsy rarely sees him working, in fact, but somehow he’s always done with his paperwork hours before Eggsy can even see the bottom of his pile. At the moment he has his long legs stretched out in front of him and is apparently immersed in the paper. There are reading glasses perched on his nose, and Eggsy tries hard to pretend that the whole picture doesn’t make his mouth dry.

“Ah,” Harry says, “be a dear and put it somewhere over there.” He doesn’t even bother to accompany the request with a hand gesture. Lazy old sod, Eggsy thinks spitefully as he plucks the suit out of Harry’s lap and drops it in one of the armchairs.

Harry folds the newspaper in half and looks over to Daisy, too. The both of them study her studying the rat for a bit, before Harry asks “Do you like rats, love?”

Daisy is a lot more blasé about the term of endearment than Eggsy is, he notes with a hint of bitterness. She shakes her head, causing her ponytail to whip around her ears. “No,” she whispers with reverence in her tone, “but I love _dead_ rats.”

Not gonna lie, sometimes Eggsy is a bit worried about his sister.

Harry, however, looks delighted. “Is that so? Well, this particular one has been dead since 1974, when she ate one of my mother’s silk stockings and choked on it.”

Eggsy stares at the man beside him. What kind of story is _that_?

Daisy is ecstatic. “Really? I love that story!” She even claps her hands and does a little happy-dance. It’s incredibly adorable and incredibly weird at the same time.

Harry chuckles, and Eggsy ignores the butterflies in his stomach to hiss at him. “Oi, don’t encourage her!”

Harry favour’s Eggsy with a strict look. “Why ever not, Eggsy? Your sister is a bright young girl, very interested in the world around her, why should I not encourage her hobbies?”

It takes Eggsy a second to realise that he’s being had. He leans over and boxes Harry’s shoulder. “Shut it, you. You’re the weird one for having this thing in here in the first place.”

Harry gives him a small smile. Eggsy’s heart does the double somersault that his body has to pass on more often than not, nowadays, because of Daisy. “Now now, it’s all for completely licit purposes, I assure you.”

“You’re a strange one, Harry Hart.”

Harry’s smile, if possible, only gets softer. If Eggsy’s next sentence is a bit too loud so it can be heard over the sound of his racing heartbeat, he can’t be blamed. “We were actually just gonna head to the park....” He trails off, biting his lip and toeing the edge of the carpet. He chances a look at Harry, who’s still looking at him. There’s a moment with a lot of looking and very little talking, and then Harry gets up in one fluid movement and crosses the room to stand next to Daisy.

“What do you say, petal, a quick trip to the park? Maybe we can find you some roadkill to look at along the way.”

It makes Eggsy melt a bit, even though he resolves to have a serious talk with Daisy about what to touch and not touch again, because he’s not keen on his little sister getting rabies or something.

They spend two hours outside, and by the end of it Eggsy feels as if he’s been run over by a cab. Harry is wonderful with Daisy, attentive and gentle and funny and it’s hell on his poor heart. At one point Harry even pushes Daisy on the swings, and Eggsy feels like he might cry with all the feelings it gives him. Harry even teaches her a bit of French, and she takes it very seriously. By the end of the day she can say “Mort aux traîtres” and “Un bol de abats mouton s‘il vous plaît” and Eggsy is incredibly proud of his smart little sister, even though he resolves to look those things up on google as soon as they get home. He doesn’t trust the mischievous twinkle in Harry’s eye or the way the two of them whisper and giggle (well, Daisy giggles, Harry chuckles in a very attractive way) behind his back.

 

Life goes on, and Eggsy becomes almost used to having Daisy around all the time. Later, he’ll think he might have become careless, that it was bound to happen, with how inattentive he’s been getting. Fighting crime in a skin-tight suit is no career you can easily introduce your little sister to without endangering her considerably, and Eggsy will beat himself up about it once he _finds her again_.

He turns another corner, his side stinging something fierce and his lungs burning but he pushes through it. “Daisy? Daisy! You there?”

She doesn’t answer. All Eggsy gets are some suspicious looks from people passing by who probably think he’s a pervert or an exhibitionist. They don’t concern him, and he rounds another corner to end up in another street without Daisy in it.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and then once again, louder (since there’s no four-year-old around to hear it), “ _FUCK!”_

He’s trying to deny that he’s shaking – he’d rounded up twenty drug dealers in a warehouse with only a ridiculous costume and a bunch of bananas not two months ago (whatever anyone says, Bors is _not funny_ ). He won’t lose it now, he _can’t_.

Anyhow, it’s time to admit that he probably won’t find her on his own. He can feel the shame and panic mixing into a bitter burning cocktail at the bottom of his stomach as he dials.

“Eggsy?” The voice is cultured, clear and kind of helps Eggsy feel his feet again, at least. He swallows heavily and looks up to the sky, trying to find out how to properly breathe. It doesn’t quite work, and his voice comes out wheezy and off.

“Haz, I fucked up.”

He can almost see Harry sit up straight. “What happened? What do you need me to do?”

 _Fuck, I love this perfect man_ , Eggsy thinks to himself, and it’s so not the time to have that revelation.

“I lost Daisy.” His voice breaks on the third syllable and he tries again. “Haz, I fuckin’ lost Daisy. I looked everywhere and I can’t find her and _fuck_ , what if something _happened_ , I’m such an idiot–”

“Breathe, Eggsy.” Harry says emphatically and Eggsy can hear a car door slam on the other side of the line. Seconds after that, a motor starts up. “I have your location, I’ll be there in five. Stay where you are, don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

The line clicks and Eggsy’s hand with his phone falls limply to his side. He doesn’t even question the fact that Harry apparently has him bugged and just stares at a street corner. It’s not a particularly interesting or unique one, there’s the same overflowing trash bags that were common in Eggsy’s neighbourhood before he got them a new house, and a slim cat makes its rounds, probably searching for food.

A hand clasps down on his shoulder and Eggsy is already halfway towards knocking the living daylights out of whoever it is before he is turned around and comes face to face with Harry. He drops his fists.

Harry is wearing his glasses again ( _he probably called Merlin_ , a voice in Eggsy’s head supplies) and the tops of his cheeks are slightly flushed. His hair, usually immaculate whatever the day, time or situation, is slightly dishevelled. There’s a single stand of hair cheekily falling over his forehead, but Eggsy can’t even appreciate that because he’s a fucking airhead _who fucking lost his baby sister_.

“Harry–” he chokes out, and before he can figure out what he even wanted to say there’s a hand in his hair and another one at his back and Harry is hugging him.

It’s not like Eggsy imagined it (and boy, did he imagine it). It isn’t charged with sexual tension, they aren’t holding onto each other tightly enough to bruise. Harry’s arms are confident and steady, holding Eggsy to him carefully but surely.

Eggsy would like to pretend that he doesn’t melt into it like a teenage girl, but he does. His arms come up out of their own volition, wrapping around Harry’s broad torso like vines. He breathes in Harry’s particular smell of gunsmoke, aftershave, tea and shortbread and inexplicably feels himself calming down.

Harry seems to sense it, too, because Eggsy can feel one of his hands moving and seconds later Harry is holding a conversation with Merlin next to his ear.

“No, I couldn’t hear her.” he says, all the while stroking Eggsy’s hair. “Did you get a read on her mask?”

Whatever Merlin says, it makes Harry take a deep breath. “Alright, we will scout the area now. Tell Roxy to focus on Bromley for now, I don’t think she has gone far, I can still smell her.”

“That is weird as fuck, you know that, right?” Eggsy says into Harry’s shirt. His voice is muffled, but he knows Harry heard him.

“Hush, love.” Harry says, and Eggsy tries to convince himself that _this is not the time to freak out about Harry, fucking hell, he’s treating me like a child because I’m behaving like one, he’s treating me like_ Daisy _, for god’s sake!_

Eggsy deems it prudent to untangle himself from Harry at that point. “A’right,” he says, trying to sound confident and ready, “Bromley, innit?”

Harry nods and heads off. Eggsy hurries to keep up. “Merlin says her mask seems to have been discarded behind the house the two of you were guarding, so that is our starting point.”

Eggsy tries to ignore the sick feeling he gets when he thinks of Daisy’s abandoned mask. She wouldn’t take it off on her own, she _loves_ that thing. Harry seems to read his thoughts, for he once more grasps Eggsy’s shoulder in a comforting hold.

“We will find her. She’s fine, I promise.”

Eggsy nods jerkily. “I know that.” He fronts, worrying at the collar of his stupid suit. Speaking of... “Say, Harry, where’s yer suit? Merlin’ll freak if he realises yer out without it again.”

Harry lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, the suit? The most incredible thing happened, the last criminal I ... ah, _apprehended_ , seems to have accidentally dropped a cigarette on it. I’m afraid the whole thing burnt to a pile of ashes.”

“Aren’t those things fireproof?”

Harry looks at Eggsy seriously. “It was a very hot cigarette. This is why smoking kills, Eggsy.”

Eggsy is pretty sure that that is _not_ why smoking kills. He sighs.

As they turn another corner Harry suddenly takes off running. “The tracker in the mask shows she’s on the move.” he tells Eggsy, and he speeds up to level with Harry. They chase down the street like complete weirdoes, one of them in a skin-tight black-and-yellow suit, the other one in a _proper_ suit, running as if the hounds of hell were on their heels. As they tear around another corner they suddenly come across a – _what?_

“Is that a _cat_?” Eggsy says incredulously as they suddenly skid to a stop. Harry next to him looks like it takes him a lot of effort not to gape.

“It appears so.”

The cat in question is a rather skinny animal with black and white spots apparently nosing around in a trash bin upended in the middle of street. It is also wearing Daisy’s mask.

“What the _fuck_.”

“Indeed.” Harry says drily. The cat blinks at them through one eyehole.

“That is not my sister.” Eggsy feels it necessary to add. The look Harry gives him could shrivel plants.

“Are you quite sure?” Harry retorts drily. He touches the side of his glasses with his index finger and says. “Merlin, the tracker is a dead-end, for some reason the mask is on a cat.”

Eggsy is pretty sure that even without Harry’s super-senses, he can hear Merlin cursing with a heavy Scottish brogue. The dread returns to him full-force. “Shit.”

“We’ll find her.” Harry reiterates. “Don’t worry, Eggsy, you know that there is not a stone in this world I would leave unturned to look for her.”

Eggsy looks at him and he knows Harry isn’t lying. The man has grown just as fond of Daisy as everyone else at Kingsman, so Eggsy nods and decides to get his shit together. He’s a fucking superhero, for fucks sake, this is not the time to panic.

They comb every inch of every street, they call her name, they look behind bins and in doorways. Harry stays calm and collected through all of it, regularly stopping to listen and smell the air (which, _creepy as fuck_ ). Eggsy is just about to descend into another panicked fit when Harry stops mid-movement.

“You hearing something?” Eggsy asks, trying to beat down the hope rising in his chest. Harry holds out a hand to quiet him.

Eggsy bites down on his lip, hard, and shuffles on the spot trying to contain the questions attempting to spill out of him. Finally, _finally_ , although he‘s convinced that it took Harry _hours_ , the other man turns around.

“It’s Roxy, she found her. She’s fine.”

All the air gets punched out of Eggsy at that and he sways a bit from the relief. Harry grabs his arm and gently guides him around a corner, and Eggsy lets him.

They reach the others within five minutes. Roxy in complete getup – mask, tight suit, gun strapped to her leg – is leaning against the pillar of a swing set on which Daisy is gently swinging back and forth.

As soon as he sees her Eggsy breaks out into a run and is by her side in seconds. When she sees him, she tears up and he doesn’t waste a moment to gather her into his arms.

“Hush, princess.” he murmurs and kisses her hair. She’s crying into his shoulder and talking, and it takes him a few moments to make out the words.

“An’ I thought, if the kitty had a mask, then we could be superher’oes togetha, bu’ she din’ wanna play an’ then she _ran away_ a’ I couldn’t find ’er, and then you’d be so _mad_ an’–”

Eggsy holds his baby sister closer and does his best to comfort her. A quick look over the top of her head shows him Roxy, standing slightly apart with a slightly green tint to her complexion.

“Thank you.” he mouths to her, and she gives him a shrug and a smile. Harry is standing next to her, smiling slightly at Eggsy, and Eggsy tries not to let the warm feeling in his gut distract him from comforting his sister.

It takes her a few minutes to calm down enough that Eggsy feels comfortable loosening his hug. He takes a good look at Daisy, taking in her reddened face and the tear tracks on her chubby cheeks and decides he hasn’t the heart to scold her.

“Dais’, you know that that was very irresponsible of you to run off like that?” he nevertheless asks, although as gently as humanly possible. He gets a slightly erratic nod and a hiccup for that.

“A’right. You’n me’re still gonna have a talk ‘bout today, but for now let’s go home, princess, a‘right?”

She nods some more and sniffs. Eggsy’s heart breaks a little at her distress and he smiles and ruffles her hair in an attempt to soothe her.

“Could you tell Merlin that I’ll take the rest of the day off?” he asks Roxy, and she nods. “Thanks, Rox, you’re a real mate. And the flying and everything, I really appreciate that.”

Roxy smiles at him bravely. “Just don’t make me do it again too soon.”

“Promise.” He smiles cheekily. “Flying’s really wasted on you, though, bruv.”

She rolls her eyes and manages a weak grin. “Tell me about it!”

Eggsy smiles and lifts Daisy up in his arms. It’s then that Harry steps forward.

“Let me take you home.”

Eggsy shakes his head vigorously. “No, no really Harry, you’ve done far too much already. You deserve a break from this mess.” With his free hand he gestures to himself.

Harry smiles at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not parked far from here.”

He turns briefly to Roxy, but she waves the offer away before he can make it. “No offence, Galahad, but I’ll need a long rest and a stiff drink after this. You guys get home safely.”

Harry inclines his head briefly. “As you wish. In that case, let me recommend you _The Brief Interlude_. Not far from here, and they carry an excellent wine collection. And also, a far less excellent but much more effective collection of cheap spirits.”

Roxy gives him a grateful smile. Harry pockets his glasses and gently steers Eggsy away from the playground with a hand on his back. Eggsy wants to protest, but he figures with as weak as his knees are, the company is not actually that bad. He’ll just have to make it up to Harry later.

Daisy in his arms is asleep before they even reach the car, sleek and black, conveniently parked in a small side-street in front of an abandoned old café. Still, Eggsy holds her tightly all the way to their home, and Harry doesn’t call him out on it.

 

Eggsy has never been very fond of proverbs. In his opinion they’re a load of crap, and in most cases they’re either too specific to fit any situation or too general to be anything but blabber to fill the silence.

 _When it rains_ , Eggsy thinks to himself defiantly, _it pours_.

His mom is standing in front of him, hands wringing and the black eye contrasting starkly with her pale face. “You really shouldn’t come in,” she whispers urgently, eyes flickering nervously from the living room behind her to him to Daisy, who’s face is hidden in Eggsy’s jacket. She is snoring gently, and probably drooling on it.

Eggsy can’t see anything of the living room, since his Mum holding the door ajar, only open far enough for her to peek out and for him to see the bruise and the shattered flower vase behind her. “He’s not in a good mood.”

Daisy snuffles, and Eggsy bounces her gently to keep her asleep. “Mum, where else can I go? Dais‘ needs to rest!”

His mom shoots another harried look behind her. “I know, darling, but if he wakes up now it won‘t end well for either of us. Leave, for now, take a hotel or something.”

“This is why you have to _leave him_ ,” he hisses, “we have enough for a restraining order, if you’d just _let me_ –”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”

“ _Mum_ –”

“ _Eggsy._ Please.”

Eggsy sighs, resigned, and bounces Daisy some more. “Fine. But come with us.”

She shakes her head quickly. “If I‘m not here when he wakes up, it’ll be worse. Talk tomorrow, okay? I’ll call you.”

“Promise?”

She gives him a rare genuine smile. It transforms her face and makes him think of the beautiful woman who used to bring him liquorice from the corner shop. “Promise. I love you, little egg.”

“Love you too, mum.” he says, and she closes the door in his face with a regretful grimace, so Eggsy turns and shuffles his way back down the stairs to look for a taxi to go... well, somewhere, he guesses.

 

“You have got to be joking.” Harry says barely twenty minutes later and stares down disapprovingly at the two of them. Eggsy defiantly adjusts the flimsy blanket he’d thrown over himself and Daisy only seconds ago. It won’t do much to keep them warm, but HQ is well-heated, usually, and he doesn’t have anything else in his office. Luckily Daisy is still asleep, snuggled into his chest, so she doesn’t witness the slightly frightening critical gaze Harry levels at Eggsy.

“It’s a perfectly reasonable reaction.” Eggsy retorts, a little mulishly, “Something came up and we couldn’t go home, and HQ is secure.”

“So is _my house_ ,” Harry says, and he sounds slightly scandalised, “not to mention that I actually have a bed suitable to both you and a four-year-old. You could have just _called me.”_

Eggsy tries hard not to think about Harry and a bed in the same sentence or context. There’s a child sleeping on his chest, for god’s sake!

He instead focuses on the issue at hand and grimaces slightly. “I didn’ want to inconvenience you any more. You’ve already done more than you should’ve, today.”

Harry opens his mouth as if to retort, but only a sigh comes out. He pinches the bridge of his nose with a suffering grimace, then lowers his hand to look at Eggsy with so much seriousness that he feels himself shrinking further into the couch.

“Eggsy, I–” He breaks off, raises his hand halfway as if to repeat his earlier gesture, then lets it drop again. Instead Harry folds his incredibly long legs (they just look longer from his vantage point, Eggsy notes distractedly all the way down on the sofa) and crouches down next to Eggsy, until Harry’s face is almost level to his.

“Eggsy, if you run into difficulties, I want to be the first person you come to, alright? It is not an inconvenience, it is not a burden. I want you to _always come to me_ without any reservations. I will never be angry or annoyed. Do you understand?”

Harry is close enough that Eggsy can see the lighter, almost yellow ring of colour around his irises. Eggsy pretends that his sudden difficulty breathing stems from the weight of Daisy on his chest, and not from Harry’s earnest gaze or the fact that his hand is resting only a hair’s breadth from Eggsy’s.

“Yeah.” he says, but it comes out croaky. He clears his throat and attempts to get some moisture back into his mouth by licking his lips. “Yeah, okay, understand.”

There’s a moment where Eggsy feels like all the air has been sucked from the room. Harry doesn’t move, he just looks at Eggsy and the moment spans and holds.

Just as he feels like he’s either going to asphyxiate or go mental right then, Harry steadies himself on the sofa and gets up in one fluid motion. He holds out his hand to Eggsy.

“Come on then.”

Eggsy takes it (warm, dry, there’s a scar next to the second knuckle, he can feel it) and lets Harry help him up, taking care not to wake Daisy.

His efforts go to waste, though, because he has only taken one step when Daisy snuffles into his neck and starts to fidget in his arms.

“Eggsy?” she asks weakly and lifts her head, looking around. “Where’re we?”

“Ssh.” He bounces her a little. “On the way somewhere comfy, ‘kay? Sleep for a bit more.”

But Daisy is fidgeting in that sluggish way that tells Eggsy she’s still tired, but refuses to sleep anymore, so he sets her down and takes her hand.

Harry smiles at them both and moves towards the exit sedately, so Daisy can keep up on slightly unsteady legs.

She valiantly tries to keep awake, but as soon as she sits down on the understated black leather seats she’s out cold again. Eggsy can’t keep in a chuckle as he watches her head lolling from side to side. A bit of drool escapes out of her open mouth. With one hand he reaches out to steady her.

Harry drives the way he does most things, relaxed and steady. It only takes them a few minutes to arrive at his house. Harry parks the car on the curb and has Daisy in his arms and out the car before Eggsy has even managed to make his hands cooperate enough to open the seatbelt. As he stumbles out of the car, Harry is already at the entrance, unlocking with one practised hand while holding Daisy with the other. The position would be hell on his muscles, if he were anyone else, and Eggsy flushes at the thought of all that strength hidden beneath the neat pinstriped suit.

 _Bad, bad Eggsy_ , he scolds himself. But the adrenaline must have done quite a number on him, he can’t really filter his thoughts as he would usually do, at least when Daisy is near. _In any case,_ he thinks, _there’s something incredibly hot about someone taking care of a child._

“Eggsy?” Harry’s slightly inquisitive voice sounds and Eggsy jerks himself out of the contemplation of Harry’s arse. The man in question is standing on the porch next to the open door, both hands supporting Daisy. “Are you alright?”

Eggsy fights a blush, but he’s not very successful. It gets even worse when he comes close enough to see the amusement dancing in Harry’s eyes.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, _I’ve been caught._

“Just a stressful day, ’s all.” It’s not a lie after all. Looking around he realises that the sun has apparently gone down quite some time before. If it weren’t for the street lights, he would probably have difficulties recognising the car that would have been quite out of place in his own neighbourhood.

He follows Harry inside. Guessing that Harry is determined to see to Daisy himself, from the way he’s demonstratively switching her to the side that’s farthest away from Eggsy, detours into the kitchen.

“Tea?” he asks.

“Please.” Harry’s voice sounds a bit distant, and Eggsy can hear a door opening.

He opens the cupboard to take out Harry’s favourite evening blend and starts the kettle. By the time he’s got two cups (one with a drop of milk and two sugars, one without anything, Eggsy doesn’t get how Harry can drink his tea that sweet) situated on the living room table, Harry reappears out of the guest room.

“I put her in some fresh clothes and put her to bed. The two of you’ll have to share, I‘m afraid, I don’t have a cot.”

Eggsy doesn’t comment on the fact that Harry might not have a cot, but his having a change of clothes for Daisy is rather telling all on its own. He wonders, briefly, whether Harry secretly wants children. Seeing how keen he is on taking good care of Daisy, it seems likely.

 _Or maybe he’s just that decent_ , his brain suggests.

“I don’ mind, we often do, anyway.” he says and plops down on the couch, ignoring Harry’s reproachful frown at his gracelessness. He lowers himself with considerably more grace, not in the armchair, as Eggsy would have expected, but right next to him, and reaches for his cup.

“Thank you for this.” Harry says and takes a little sip, eyes fluttering shut in enjoyment.

Eggsy takes a gulp of his tea. “I should say thank you,” he says, feeling slightly embarrassed, “I was a total mess today, an’ you–”

Harry waves that away. “You had just lost your little sister, it is entirely reasonable to be upset.”

Eggsy sets down his cup on the saucer more forcefully than intended, all of a sudden unaccountably angry. “Ye’, that’s just it, _I lost her_!” Now that she is fine, sleeping off the shock in sheets that are probably silk, knowing Harry, it hits him all over again. He burrows his head in his arms. “God, I’m such a fucking _idiot,_ this is all my fault!”

There’s a soft click of another teacup coming to rest on its saucer, and then a warm hand at his back.

“It was careless of you.” Harry’s soft voice concedes, “But you are not exclusively to blame. After all, all of us knew that she had been coming along to your missions, and none of us deemed it dangerous.”

It’s kindly meant, but Eggsy cannot accept it just yet. “But I should have known! Tha’s my job, after all!”

“I think if it is anyone‘s job to _just know things_ , it is Merlin’s. I believe he has a degree in it.” Harry says dryly, and Eggsy chokes on a small laugh.

“Omniscient bastard,” he says fondly, and feels a hand ruffle his hair and retreat.

“There now. That is a bit better. How about the both of us go to bed, and tomorrow we deal with the repercussions of this?”

 _No, bad_ , Eggsy immediately reprimanded his suddenly rather colourful thoughts _, that was not what he meant_ _! Stop it!_

Eggsy lifts his head. Harry is close, maybe almost too close, by usual standards, and Eggsy gives him a wry smile. “Thanks, really. I mean it. I don‘t think I’d have made it today, without you.”

Harry smiles, one of the rare, soft smiles that Eggsy only gets to see in extremely unguarded moments. “Whenever you need me. You know that, Eggsy.”

And Eggsy _does_ know that, so he nods. The smile does not leave Harry’s face, and Eggsy cannot stop his eyes from flickering down to his lips. When he forces them to Harry’s eyes again, they seem to be fixed on Eggsy’s mouth, too.

Ridiculous, he chides himself, and forces himself to get up. “Good night, Harry.”

Harry looks almost regretful, Eggsy thinks, but immediately discards the idea. “Good night.”

Eggsy only realises that he hasn’t brushed his teeth or taken off his socks or even closed the door all the way when he collapses next to Daisy. She is already snoring happily, tucked in and apparently comfortable beneath the smooth sheets. Eggsy debates getting up to get ready for bed properly, but he only has enough energy to pull up the comforter until he’s moderately covered.

He drifts off to the image of Harry tucking in Daisy, smiling slightly, and neither notices the comforter being tucked around him, nor the door gently being shut behind retreating steps.

 

The morning is a bit awkward, to say the least. When Eggsy wakes up, he finds the other side of the queen sized bed empty, and he has a brief, panicked moment. Then the smell of bacon and toast and the sound of Daisy’s giggles float up the stairs into the room and he relaxes.

He sits up blearily, and rubs his eyes. He’s still in his suit, he notes, and the spandex sticks to his skin uncomfortably in places and pinches in others.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Merlin,” he murmurs to himself, “who the fuck thought _spandex_ was a good idea.”

Before he can force himself to leave the warm and comfortable cocoon of blankets he has somehow gotten himself entangled in, the door creaks all the way open and admits Daisy. She’s looking unbearably cute; Her hair is neatly plaited into two braids, she’s wearing bright green pyjamas with little black skulls all over them and a concentrated frown. She’s also balancing a small tray with a bowl of porridge and a tall glass with orange juice on it.

“Morning princess!”

“Ssssh Eggsy, ’m working!” she retorts without a pause and carefully ventures further into the room. The whole impression is incredibly adorable, but Eggsy doesn’t dare say anything. Instead he looks past Daisy to Harry, who is carrying a tray of his own. His is much bigger and contains a plate with a full English breakfast. There’s also two teacups and a small teapot with lots of tiny pink flowers on it.

“Morning.” Eggsy beams at Harry, then takes in all of him and a laugh escapes him. “Neat apron you got there.”

Harry sniffs and crosses the room to settle on the edge of the bed, settling the tray on his knees. “Keeping your suit stain-free is imperative to a good impression.” he says with a lecturing tone.

“You’re not wearing a suit.” Eggsy points out, because Harry isn’t. Instead he’s in comfortable slacks and a shirt. Eggsy has seen the outfit before in passing, so there’s absolutely no reason for his blood to rush to his face like that. It still does, though, and Eggsy tries to cover it by cooing at Daisy, who has also reached the bed.

“Aww, princess, you bringin’ me breakfast in bed? You shouldn’t have!”

Daisy settles the tray on the other side of the bed and scrambles on it. “I didn’t,” she declares and picks up the spoon, “it’s mine. Uncle Harry has yours.”

“ _Uncle Harry_?” Eggsy mouths with a questioning look. Harry just shrugs in his entirely unbothered, what-can-you-do way, and taps Eggsy’s bent knees.

“Stretch.” he commands, and Eggsy obeys, stretching out his legs and settling them on the mattress. They’re only inches from Harry’s arse. Harry sets the tray down on Eggsy’s lap and hands him first a filled teacup and then a buttered piece of toast with eggs on top.

“Eat.”

Having breakfast in bed with Daisy and Harry is surreal. It’s comfortable and domestic. Eggsy laughs when Harry carefully wipes away Daisy’s orange juice moustache with a napkin, gets disdainfully sniffed at by Harry when he leaves crumbs all over the bed because he gestures with the toast in hand, and gives Harry entirely too much shit for the flowery teapot, the cutesy apron and the pyjamas. All the while, there’s something warm squirming in his stomach, and his heart is racing like there’s no tomorrow.

 

Eggsy knows something is wrong as soon as they walk into the jewellery shop. It was an anonymous tip, Merlin had said, and once more Eggsy is infinitely grateful for the fact that Harry volunteered to look after Daisy for the length of the mission.

“Why’s it so dark?” he complains, “It’s the middle of the day, what’s their game?”

He can’t be sure, but he thinks Roxy shrugs beside him. These suits are ridiculously sensitive to air movement. Gotta complain to Merlin about that.

“I don‘t know,” she admits, “but it’s probably something _devilish_.” She sounds entirely too delighted by that.

“Your crush on that girl has gotten _way_ out of control.” he tells her, “There’s gotta be a light switch somewhere around here. Why can’t I have gotten _night-vision_ from the genetic pool? But _no_ , it’s gotta be freaking _gymnastics,_ like that’s useful in any kind of situation. ”

“It's useful in a sex kind of situation.” Roxy points out.

Eggsy rolls his eyes for the benefit of no-one, since it’s still dark as fuck. He feels along the wall, and his hand brushes over something light and papery. “What the hell?”

All of a sudden it’s very, very bright. Eggsy needs a few seconds of blinking and squinting to adjust to it. There’s a quiet “Ooooh!” from next to him.

“Roxy, what‘s going ... ooh.”

The whole shop is lit brightly by a frankly absurd amount a fairy lights. There’s flowers on every available surface, and the papery thing he’s brushed against, Eggsy discovers, was a garland.

More important than that, though, are the two people standing in front of them. They’re both dressed in black, wearing masks that cover their faces, but Eggsy recognises them. He has, after all, been chasing after their bank robberies and stupid flowers for almost a year now.

The one in the back, he knows, is Gazelle. She’s leaning against a glass cabinet full of delicately arranged necklaces that are most definitely out of Eggsy’s price range.

The other girl has dark hair and a fringe, and it’s her that Roxy’s gaze is fixed on. She’s holding a small bouquet of forget-me-nots and smiling nervously.

“Hi.” she says.

“Hi.” Roxy squeaks, and Eggsy drops his hands holding the gun when he realises what this is.

“Oh for _fuck’s sake_.” he can’t help but say. It’s alright though, since no one is listening to him anyway. Gazelle just looks bored, and the two others are completely unaware of anything but each other.

The other girl is carefully taking off her mask. “Hello,” she says, “my name is Amelia.”

“Roxy,” Roxy says.

“I know.” Amelia smiles and holds out the bouquet. Roxy takes it with a shaking hand.

“Go out with me? Please?” Amelia says, and she’s biting her lip nervously. With an awkward gesture around her, she adds “I’ll drop this lifestyle, of course.”

Eggsy would have liked to tell her that she’s got nothing to worry about, but Roxy is faster. Before he can so much as blink, she’s pressed out a “Yes!” and all but jumped the other girl.

Eggsy exchanges an uncomfortable glance with Gazelle as sounds of frantic snogging fill the room.

“Why are we here again?”

She doesn’t even answer him, just kicks in the nearest window and jump out into the night.

“You’re fucking _mental._ ” Eggsy tells everyone and no-one in particular. “Roxy? Rox, I‘m out, okay? Have fun!” He waves at them weakly with his gun (safety on, of course) and beats a hasty retreat.

Man, he cannot wait to tell Harry about this.

 

He finds Harry playing with Daisy on the floor of his office. He stops in the entrance to the room for a second and takes in the picture of the two of them. They’re seated on the expensive cream-coloured carpet and apparently busy playing with dolls.

“Never took you for the type to play with dolls.” he says, and Harry turns his head.

“I am not, actually. I like the real thing much better.” There’s something dirty in the way Harry looks at him, eyes travelling the length of Eggsy’s body quickly. It makes him incredibly glad that he changed out of the skin-tight suit and into his trackies, and also that such things are currently still going far over Daisy’s little blonde head.

“You will not believe the day I’ve had.” Eggsy tells Harry instead of replying to whatever _that_ was and drops into his armchair. “I could do with something to drink.” He’s uncomfortable drinking in front of Daisy though, considering everything Dean already puts her through. He does not want her to smell alcohol on him, ever, and think of that arsehole.

Harry, apparently, seems to get that. He carefully puts down the doll he’s holding (who doesn’t have a head, for some reason). “Daisy, love, how about you go and say hello to Merlin? I am sure he misses you something desperate.”

Daisy nods and gathers her two dolls into her arms. “I’ll see if he wants to play revolution.” she says and totters out the door.

“Thank you, petal.” Harry tells her and accompanies her to the door, then closes it behind her once he can see that she’s safely reached Merlin‘s office on the other end of the corridor. With long strides he crosses over to the little cabinet where Eggsy keeps the whiskey that people (read: Harry) occasionally get him. He pours them both a finger and takes a seat opposite Eggsy, handing him a glass and then toasting him with the other.

“Where’s your suit?” Eggsy wonders detachedly, and sips his whiskey. He’ll never be one for the taste, he thinks, but it does the trick to settle him a bit. Or maybe that’s Harry, who’s close enough to touch.

Harry blinks for a second. “It was eaten, I believe.”

“Eaten?” Eggsy says, barely keeping in a laugh, “By what?”

“Hm.” Harry swirls the whiskey in his glass. “A dog, most probably.”

Eggsy really does laugh this time, and takes another sip. “How on earth do ya say all that with a straight face?”

Harry allows a small smile on his face. “Practise, dear boy. Now, what did you experience today that you were so eager to share?”

“Oh, right!” Eggsy sits up straighter and relays the whole story to Harry, complete with embellishments and extravagant hand gestures. “And then they were just snogging and snogging and snogging –” he says, and Harry grasps his hand all of a sudden.

“Careful,” Harry says, smiling, “you’ll spill it.”

Eggsy can feel his face burning and carefully extracts his hand to set down the tumbler, which he had indeed waved around without a care in the world. He puts it on the floor, for the lack of any better surfaces, and when he turns back to Harry, he realises suddenly that they’re much closer than before. He’s pretty sure that he can feel Harry’s breath on his face.

He wishes it was unpleasant, instead of kind of giving him an erection. Talk about inappropriate conduct in the workplace.

Eggsy sits back with a jerk. “Anyway, I don’t think anyone will be surprised. It was so obvious they were into each other, all these flowers ’n stuff. I told Roxy so too, y‘know.”

Harry hadn’t moved. When Eggsy looked up at him again, he set down his own tumbler on the floor carefully. “Yes, I know,” he says with equal care, looking Eggsy straight in the eyes, “I heard you.”

“You did.” Eggsy frowns, then laughs. “Nah, you can’t have, you were in a meeting with Merlin at the time, I think. You can’t have heard us.”

Harry continues looking. Eggsy bends down, fishes the tumbler from the floor and downs the remaining whiskey in it carelessly. When he’s finally stopped coughing, he casually drapes himself over the armrest and plays with the tassels on it with an indifferent air.

“Say, how far do those super-senses of yours go again?”

Harry, as far as Eggsy can tell, hasn’t moved. “Twenty times what a human can sense.” he says, as if he hadn’t already explained it to Eggsy countless times. “That applies to both distance and obstructions,” he adds helpfully, calmly. “I can hear through walls, Eggsy.”

“But you can turn it off, right?” Eggsy says, desperation bleeding into his voice. “Right?”

“I’m not a toaster, Eggsy, I cannot just pull the plug and be done with it.”

Eggsy’s wide eyes flit around the room and eventually settle on the painting of a pineapple hanging slightly to the right. Why does he have a painting of a pineapple in his room anyway? That is ludicrous, he’ll have to take that down. As soon as he’s not dying from panic, that is.

“So...” he says, stops, then goes on: “That time I told the nurses in that hospital that you were my husband ...”

“I heard you.”

Eggsy swallows. “Uhm, right. Okay. Uhm, that time I talked to Roxy about, you know, you in suits...”

Harry has the nerve to chuckle. Eggsy still isn’t looking at him. “I believe your exact words were _fit as a gold-medal winner at the Olympic Games_. It was very flattering, you know.”

“Oh god.” Eggsy chokes out, and suddenly he can’t stay in the chair anymore, so he jumps up. He walks a few steps, then stops and turns, focusing on the tips of Harry’s shiny oxfords.

“That – that time I fought with Roxy about her behaviour on missions...” _I know you’re into her, Rox,_ he hears himself say, frustrated, _but you can’t behave that way on missions! Hell, I’m stupidly in love with Harry, and you don‘t see me endangering the whole mission by being so focused on his arse in spandex that I can’t take out a few smugglers!_

 _That might be because he refuses to wear Merlin’s silly uniforms!_ she retorted, half-heartedly. The door was open, that time, only slightly, but the room is in the same wing as Merlin’s office, as Harry’s office, too. It was an argument about Roxy’s priorities, because she was mooning after Amelia to the extent of leaving Eggsy unprotected and him receiving a rather nasty gunshot wound.

It was months ago, but if Harry did –

Eggsy chances a look at him. Harry is completely focused on him, hands carefully folded in his lap. “That time, too.” he says calmly, as if discussing the weather.

“FUCK!” Eggsy blurts. Harry has the nerve to look at him reproachfully.

“Language, Eggsy.”

Eggsy runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he repeats, “so, you know? That I –” Eggsy makes a few gestures that do not make any sense at all to him or probably Harry, trying to convey _am utterly and madly in love with you_ , without actually conveying _am utterly and madly in love with you_.

Harry inclines his head in a gesture that is minimal, but undeniably a yes.

“Shit,” Eggsy says, “shit, Harry I’m so sorry, oh fuck, this must’ve been so uncomfortable for you, I’m sorry.”

He has never in his life been so mortified, he’s sure of it. He really wants to run from the room now, but Harry deserves his apology. After all, if he’s known all that time and not done anything, that shows pretty clearly what his stance on the whole thing is.

“Dear boy, no.” Harry says suddenly, and twitches, as if about to get up and deciding against it in the last moment. “That is not why I kept quiet about it. I knew you’d be mortified–”

“Which I should!” Eggsy exclaims, throwing his hands in the air in a helpless gesture. “Anyone would, if they’d accidentally confessed their love to someone without knowing it, _repeatedly_.”

There’s a strange expression on Harry’s face. “To be quite honest, I would infinitely prefer it at the moment to repeatedly hinting at your feelings without the other party ever getting the message.”

Eggsy stops the frantic pacing that he hasn’t even noticed he started. “What?”

Harry sighs. “Honestly, darling, for someone so incredibly smart you can be incredibly obtuse.”

Eggsy gapes. Harry doesn’t even move, he just sits there with a resigned look on his face.

Eggsy doesn’t know what to say. A suspicion is rearing its head, but no ... it, can’t be....

“It’s not Merlin, is it?” he asks, feeling utterly ridiculous but at the same time like that option is probably more likely than what his stupid feelings would have him believe.

Harry chokes on air. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

Eggsy shakes his head. “Nothing, really, it’s just–” He breaks off and studies Harry. He tries thinking back on all the times they interacted within the last few months, which is embarrassingly easy. And also, he realises with a flush, embarrassingly obvious.

He has been the biggest idiot to ever wear a skin-tight suit, Eggsy decides.

“You’re into me.” he says, and it sounds even more wonderful out loud than in his head, “You fancy me!”

Harry sighs and quirks a smile. His eyes, Eggsy notices, are twinkling again.

“Finally we seem to be on the same page,” he says, smile growing wider, “took you long enough. We will have to work on your ability to pick up subtle clues.” But it sounds fond.

Harry smiles, actually smiles, showing his teeth and all. His cheek dimples, and Eggsy feels his brain melt in a puddle on the floor. Then Harry reaches out a finger and crooks it invitingly. “Now come over here, my darling boy. There is a drop of whiskey in the corner of your mouth, and I have been itching to lick if off for _ages_.”

It is entirely unfair, Eggsy muses, that someone can be this adorable one second and this hot the next. But he goes, straddling Harry’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.

The kiss is hot and soft and wet, and it tastes of whiskey and tea and Harry. Eggsy’s heart is beating out of his chest, and he wonders whether Harry can actually hear it, but his mouth is too busy to ask.

“You know,” he says eventually, detaching himself from Harry’s mouth and trailing soft kisses up his jaw instead, fingers playing with the soft wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. “I just came up with at least ten other ways for you to ruin your suits.”

“Oh,” Harry murmurs, voice dark and slightly husky, “ _do tell_.”

“I think it’s better if I show you.” Eggsy whispers back, already unbuttoning Harry’s shirt.

He does, with very liberal application of his superpower.

And, as it turns out, Merlin turns a delightful shade of puce when innocently presented with a spandex suit with come stains.

 

 


End file.
